Helena has always been good at silence and hiding in shadows, something which unnerves her twin. Sarah does not understand, Helena thinks. I use this to protect us. Hearing footsteps from down the hall, the blonde melts into a corner. It wouldn't do to be caught out of her bunk at this hour. And for all her secrecy, Helena has never been a good liar. Deceit is unholy.
The pilot holds her breath as the night guard passes her. Once he's gone, a smile escapes her face. Security, she thinks. Pah. Helena knows the sweeps come around every half hour. She has more than enough time to complete her mission. Soundlessly padding down the corridor, she eyes the arms locker door. It's been much more protected since the theft of the bombs which blew up Galactica's water tanks.
The lock is electronic, requiring a nine digit code that only the arms master and three marines know. To get into the arms storage, even highly ranked officers must ask for their assistance. Helena closes her eyes. Yesterday, she'd been on security detail as Lieutenant Agathon had taken inventory. The blonde had been able to watch as the code was entered, scuffing her feet impatiently so as to appear casual.
Seven-nine-nine-zero-six-four-two-five-one, Helena enters, tongue between her teeth. The lock slides open with a click, and Helena steals into the room, shutting the door behind her. Bypassing the guns and bombs, she goes to the small chest of ceremonial weapons. A traditional blade for a holy mission is only appropriate. Pulling out a knife, Helena examines it. No, it's not quite right. Gleaming steel catches her eye. The pilot gasps. Engraved on the handle is a flying fish.
"I dreamed it, and it is so," Helena whispers. Reverently, she picks up the weapon and turns it over in her hands. The knife is so sharp it practically sings. Helena slips it into her bag. Yes, she thinks. The gods have seen me with smiles today.
…
Delphine turns over restlessly in her bunk. She doesn't technically need sleep, but she is capable of it. Or at least, she should be. If she was a centurion, the scientist could just flip a switch and power down her system, but her humanoid biology is a little more complex than that.
"Frak," she curses, turning over. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees that kiss. Cosima drawing nearer, lips pressed to hers. Delphine's stomach flips. She touches a hand to her lips. The kiss was not unpleasant. In fact…
I want to do it again, the cylon realizes. I want to kiss that human again. Delphine shakes her head, trying to clear it. She has a mission—sabotage human studies of cylons. I would be more effective at my objective if we were closer, she justifies. This could be my best course of action. It is a great opportunity. Really, she could have hardly asked for a better situation. The fact that the possibility increases her heartrate means nothing. It is merely a flaw in her still imperfect form. Delphine is sure of it. It has nothing to do with Cosima's warm smile, or the way her touch lingers on the blonde's skin. Nothing to do with her infectious laugh or brilliant intellect. Absolutely nothing at all.
…
"Sarah," Starbuck had said to her. "I brought back someone from Caprica. He was a freedom fighter there, and I think he'd make a good pilot. Can you show him the ropes a little?"
"Yeah," Sarah had replied casually, intrigued despite herself. A survivor from Caprica? "What's his name?"
"Cal."
Cal, Sarah thinks, walking to the ready room. Cal the freedom fighter. Bloody hell, I hope he's trainable. After shouldering open the door, Sarah stops. Shite.
"Hi," the lean, bearded man says. "I'm Cal."
"You sure are," Sarah responds, and kicks herself mentally. "Uh, you sure are a little scruffy for the fleet, cadet." Nice save, Manning. Gods.
"Uh, yeah," Cal says, touching his beard. "It was a little hard to find time to shave in the resistance."
Sarah nods. "You should be able to get that taken care of here. Have you ever flown before?"
"Not anything off-planet, no."
"Right. Well, we better get you to the simulator then."
"Sure," Cal says, smiling. "Great. Hey, I never caught your name."
"2nd Lieutenant Sarah Manning," the pilot replies, stomach definitely not flipping slightly at his upturned lips. "But you call me sir as long as I'm training you."
"Yes, sir. Which way to the simulator?"
"I'll show you," Sarah says, shouldering past him. She can feel his body heat next to her. Pull it together, she thinks. Or you going to be in a whole world of trouble.
...
Cosima's ducked behind her desk retrieving a fallen report when she hears the lab door open. Rising, she sees a familiar figure cautiously walking in.
"Delphine," Cosima breathes. "I thought you wouldn't come ba—to the lab today."
"Well our work is very important to me," Delphine says.
Right, our work, Cosima thinks. Just the work.
"I'm just, I'm really sorry," she begins, blood rushing to her face. "I, I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have been smoking in the lab, and you're not, you don't like girls. And you know, that's okay, that's great, and I am so sorry. I hope you can still work with me on the science stuff, you know as partners, I mean lab partners, I—"
"Cosima," Delphine cuts off her rambling. "I've had time to think. About that kiss."
"Oh?" Cosima can't keep the hope out of her voice. Don't go there, Niehaus…
"Yes." The blonde looks down and bites her lip. "I was shocked, yes. But—but I think I may have liked it" she blurts out.
Cosima's jaw drops. "You liked it?"
"I think so. But there is only one way to be sure. You know, we are scientists, and empirical trials are the best way to get definitive results."
"Empirical trials." Cosima's mouth is dry, and suddenly the other woman is very close. "I can do that."
"Good," Delphine says, and kisses her. Her lips are warm and soft, both her hands cupping Cosima's face, and the brunette feels like she might just combust from the heat. She gasps, and Delphine slips her tongue into her mouth, stepping closer and standing flush against Cosima. The shorter woman doesn't know where to put her hands, not wanting to scare Delphine off, but the blonde lets out a slight moan and suddenly Cosima can't stop her hands from moving everywhere, memorizing the feel of Delphine's curves.
The pair break apart, gasping, and Cosima pants "Woah. Did you like—"
Delphine lunges forward and pulls her into another kiss, hands pulling her in possessively. Cosima lets herself be guided back onto the desk, and papers scatter to the floor, forgotten. The brunette removes her glasses, and thanks the gods for the lock on their lab door as she lets her hands trail lower down…
…
"Okay, you remember the plan?" Alison whispers to Felix.
"Yes, Alison." Felix rolls his eyes. "You've got a data disk with a fake new encryption, I 'accidentally' drop it by Aynsley, and we see if she returns it right away or keeps it for a bit."
"And I'll watch to make sure she actually picks it up," Alison nods. Felix is surprised she didn't chide him for using her first name.
"Right then. Let's snap to it." Felix picks up the disk and slips it onto his clipboard. "Ta."
He walks towards Aynsley's office. Time to practice my theatre best, he smiles to himself.
"Felix, take the disk," the slender man mutters to himself, imitating Alison's tone. "Felix, it's very important, it's a new encryption. Remember, this is high security. Be veeeeeery careful with it."
Out of the corner of his eye, Felix sees Aynsley poking her head out of the door behind him. Time to set the hook. Shifting his arm a little, Felix lets the disk fall on the floor.
"Felix do this, Felix do that," he says to cover the noise of it falling. "Bloody officers." He turns the corner.
Alison is looking at him, jaw a little tense. "Is that really what you think of me?"
"Oh, oh no," Felix says quickly. "You're a little uptight, but you're not a bad boss."
"Oh. Good." Alison looks relieved. "She took the bait. Now we just have to wait."
"You're a poet, Captain," Felix laughs. "A paranoid, planning poet."
Alison shakes her head, but walks with Felix back to her office.
…
Tony looks at the broken tabletop centrifuge, furrowing his brow. "Jeez, sister, how'd you break this?"
"Uh," Dr. Niehaus stutters. "We, uh, we were just, um—"
"Being a little too clumsy," Dr. Cormier smoothly finishes. "Thank you for helping us fix it."
Tony looks at the pair of them. The dark-haired woman is bright red and blondie looks a little flushed. He smirks.
"That's my job. You might want to be more careful in your future…experiments, though."
Tony didn't think it was possible for Dr. Niehaus to go redder, but apparently he was wrong. "Yes. We'll be more careful. Totally. Very careful."
Turing back to the centrifuge, Tony frowns. The damn thing really is jammed.
"Frak!" he swears, cradling his freshly cut hand. "Damn rotor!"
"Let me see it," Dr. Cormier says, moving forward. "I was originally trained as a medical doctor. It's Cosima who has the specialty in evolutionary biology."
"It's not that bad," Tony protests, but gives her his hand anyway.
The doctor examines it closely. "This needs stiches. Cosima, could you get the medkit?" Dr. Cormier looks back at him. "I hope you are not afraid of needles."
"Really not a problem," Tony says, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it." Still, he grits his teeth a little bit as Dr. Cormier deftly cleans and stiches the wound.
"There you go," she says, giving him back his hand.
"Thanks, Dr. Cormier," Tony replies.
The woman laughs. "Please, call me Delphine."
"I feel just terrible about your hand. It's kinda our fault," Dr. Niehaus says. "Can we like, get you a drink for your trouble? Oh, and you can call me Cosima, too."
"Well I never turn down a drink." Tony grins. "Guess I've got a date with you lovely ladies."
The scientists laugh, and Tony turns back to the centrifuge. He's still got to fix the damn thing, after all.
…
Cal strokes his freshly shaven chin, and shakes his head, not used to the long hair being gone. He misses his beard, but military regs are military regs, or so Sarah had said.
Lieutenant Manning, he corrects himself. Or, sir. He smiles. Try as she might, Cal had seen a few cracks in her hardass drill sergeant persona. She'd almost seemed sad when she told him to lose the beard. But even if she might have a soft spot, Cal had to admit that Sarah was a hell of a pilot. He had felt graceless next to her as he'd fumbled through the drills.
"Keep practicing, cadet," Sarah had said, and put a hand on his shoulder. "The harder you work, the less likely you are to die." Despite her callous words, her hand had lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary.
Sarah Manning is definitely a puzzle. And Cal's always liked seeing how all those pieces fit together. Truth be told, Cal's glad to be distracted from thinking about his comrades on Caprica. We'll go back and get them, he thinks. Me and the whole damn fleet.
